The Point of No Return
by Jennistar1
Summary: Based on Alison Croggon's Pellinor series...The worst possible scenario and its happy-ever-after resolution! Nothing to do with the Phantom, though that is the best musical ever...
1. Chapter 1

NB: I do not own these characters. If I did, I would be sitting on a beach somewhere drinking cocktails with a guy who looks like a model, not sitting in a slummy internet cafe in the middle of Sydney...anywhoo...

**The Point of No Return**

The knife pierced Maerad's side so quickly and so suddenly that she hardly realised anything had happened before it was withdrawn again. She stared around at the holder of the knife and was not surprised to find it was Enkir, his peaky malevolent face glowing red in the heat of the screaming battle raging all around them.

Her hand found her pierced side and she felt a wetness press against her palm. She should have been more careful, she thought, trancelike. Cadvan had told her so, before they had rushed out of Til Amon's walls to attack the Black Army on the other side.

"There are rumours that Enkir is leading them," he said. "Be careful. Most likely he desires you as much as the Nameless One."

She had told him off for frightening her just before her first real battle and he had smiled, a grim smile, but it had relieved her a little.

She had forgotten his advice…and now…

The pain was starting to build, like an unstoppable wave of pressure approaching from her side to her mind.

"Why?" she asked Enkir, who was standing, watching, waiting for her to drop.

"If the Great One gets the Song, he gets Edil-Amarandh," he said. "I want to fight him fairly. If he gets the Song, I will not be able to do that. And I want control of Edil-Amarandh oh so much…"

"Destroy the Singer, destroy the Song," Maerad whispered.

"Exactly," he answered. "So much for the Chosen. Elednor Edil-Amarandh na, wiped out by a knife blow. All those prospects and silly legends in songs, gone with one stab."

Maerad's legs weakened. She collapsed gently against something hard and sturdy, and remembered vaguely that she had been fighting against the wall of Til Amon before she had been stabbed. At least she was out of the battle here…

She slid slowly down the wall, the pain reaching both legs and making them as weak as strands of straw. Enkir eyed her uncaringly from up above and she stared quietly back up. He seemed so tall from the floor, so imposing, as unbeatable and untouchable as a storm.

"It appears my work here is done," he said and smiled; a smile so cold and so pitiless that Maerad's spine froze in simple terror. He turned and melted into the crowd, and, as he did so, the strange dullness that had covered Maerad's ears since the stabbing vanished and the rushing noise of the battle flooded back to her.  
Her head was fogging with pain; she could hear only shouts, men and women screaming, the clash of metal on metal, wood on wood. No one had noticed the stabbing; there was so much going on and Enkir had been so subtle, so quick…

Maerad took in a deep breath and forced herself to look at her side. He had stabbed her just where there was a gap in her chain mail, had pierced her flesh effortlessly. A crimson stain was spreading on the material of her jacket.

She replaced her hand over the wound, clutching tightly, and tried to think. But her mind was fogging over her vision now, and she could only see black shapes on red, moving back and forth, twisting and turning, over and over…

A voice. Someone was calling her name. No, not calling. Shouting. She looked to her left a little and saw Cadvan rushing towards her, his face blackened and smeared with blood. He dropped to his knees before her.

"What happened?"

"Enkir." Maerad was shocked to hear how breathy her voice had become; her throat could hardly drag the words out. "He stabbed me. It was so quick - "

Cadvan's face grew pale under the muck. He gently reached around and peeled her hand away from the wound, examining it with his own.

"It's all right," he said. "A bit of - " And then his voice gave out and his face stilled in what Maerad knew was shock. For a split second he stared at her wound with the same still expression, then his eyes flicked up to meet hers.

"Healing," he finished, but he spoke in a monotone.

"It's bad, isn't it," Maerad said. It was not a question.

"No," he protested.

"It is." Maerad glanced down at the wound; the blood was still spreading. And suddenly she understood exactly what Cadvan just had.

"It's poisoned," she said. "He cursed the blade so that the wound can't be Healed. Didn't he?" She glanced up at Cadvan, who didn't reply. "Didn't he?" she pressed.

"No," Cadvan said again. "It's just - it's just - "

"This is it." They stared at each other blankly, terrified. "This is it," continued Maerad. "It can't be Healed. It can't be stopped. This is it, isn't it?"

"No," whispered Cadvan.

"Don't lie to me."

Their eyes met. Cadvan slowly withdrew his hand from her side and took her own hands in a tight grasp. All colour had drained out of his face; he looked suddenly like an old, old man.

"Not like this," he said. "Please, not like this."

Maerad had never heard Cadvan plead before; he had always been so firm, so supportable. He took everything that came, maybe not with a smile, but with a grim sense that that was how it was. And now he was pleading…

A wave of panic overwhelmed her, fear shuddered its way through her. She was suddenly faced with the realisation that this - truly was - it. She was going to die. Just one moment, one split second when she had been off guard. If she had seen Enkir, if she had moved just one bare step away…

But she hadn't and now she was…dying.

"I'm sorry," she said. She felt her eyes prickle with hot tears. "Oh, Cadvan, I'm so sorry - "

Cadvan's eyes shone with tenderness; he gently leaned forward and brushed her hair away from her eyes, tucking it behind her ears.

"You don't need to be sorry," he answered. "There's nothing to be sorry about."

"But the Song - the prophecy - "

"It wasn't your fault. You didn't do this."

"Y - you told me t - to be careful." The tears that had been threatening finally spilled, Maerad bit her lip hard before continuing in an effort to keep her voice level. "And now this had happened and I can't play the Song - and the Nameless will take over the Light - take - over - "

"Shh," Cadvan implored. His hand stayed on her cheek and she could feel his fingers trembling on her skin. The pain would have been unbearable now, had a numbness not been creeping through her limbs. Maerad both welcomed and repelled it; it was relieving the pain and yet it was a reminder, a hint of what was coming.

There was so much she hadn't said, so much she hadn't done. She had planned to be a scholar when all this was over, to go to a School and learn subjects like everyone else, vague, silly, simple plans that those who are trapped by fate have.

And she had failed so many; Cadvan, Hem, Saliman, Silvia, all those whom she had met, all those who lived and loved in the Light. She had failed them, failed them as soon as that dagger had pierced her skin.

She took in another deep breath and tightened her grasp on Cadvan's other hand.

"You - have - to - " She tried to move her position and pain ricocheted through her, making her gasp aloud. Cadvan looked at her quickly and their eyes met; and Maerad was suddenly horribly aware just how much this was hurting him, petrifying him to the bone, yet numbing him in the same way as it was her. This was their last moment and yet it didn't seem real, it didn't seem right, it shouldn't be happening like this - and so suddenly –

They had forgotten the rest of the battle and the rest of the battle had forgotten them. It was just them now, sitting there, staring at each other, lost from the rest of the world. Just them, no one else. Just them.

"You have to keep fighting," Maerad said in one quick breath. "Fighting the Dark - you may be able to win, you may have a chance - "

"I will, you know I will, you know I will."

"I know."

They swapped a look of silent panic.

"Don't do this," Cadvan said. "Don't do this to me, Maerad - "

Maerad felt her stomach clench.

"Hem," she whispered. "Hem - keep him safe, tell Saliman - "

"Yes - please - don't - "

"And Silvia and Malgorn - and - and everyone, and say I'm sorry, I'm so sorry - "

Cadvan hastily shook his head and kissed her tightly on her forehead to quieten her. For a moment, he stayed there, resting his cheek on hers. His hands were shaking in hers.

"Maerad," he said after a while, in a suddenly calm voice. "If I had to choose - between the Light and you - if I had to choose right now - it would be you."

Maerad blinked, her heart tightening.

"But you - "

"Without a moment's hesitation. Without a second's thought. That is how much you have meant - how much you mean - to me."

They stayed silent for a while, his cheek on hers, her hands in his. The numbness was creeping into Maerad's mind now; she knew it wasn't long.

"I don't want to leave," she whispered into his ear. "It's not fair, I wanted to keep going. I know I wanted to be normal and that I couldn't - but that didn't mean - that I didn't want to keep going. Because I did, I really, really did, Cadvan - "

"I know," he answered. "I know you do."

"It's not fair."

"No. No. It's not."

Maerad felt her cheek grow damp and realised tears were coming from his eyes also. She clung onto his hands as if she never wanted to let go, as if their grip on each other would keep her there just a second longer, or take him with her.

"You're leaving me," Cadvan said.

"I won't," she replied. "I won't leave."

But she was failing with each word she said.

Cadvan moved away and they studied each other, hungrily, knowing they would never see each other again and wanting to drain the most out of every millisecond they had left. Maerad concentrated on every part of his face separately, the whiplash marks curling around his left eye, the grim tightening around his mouth, the unending, burning sadness in his eyes.

"Maerad," Cadvan whispered. "I love - "

Maerad shook her head, just as he had a second ago, then leaned forward, ignoring the pain screaming across her side as she did so, and pressed her lips to his.

They stayed still, suspended outside of time, trapped within a bubble of their own, where Death and War and Misery were stayed for just a moment, where nothing else mattered except the feel of the other's skin on their own. If only, Maerad whispered inside her mind, if only this kiss, this love, could bring her away from the edge, could drag her back, could Heal her. But it was as Cadvan had said once before, long, long ago in that shining city of Rachida: No power, not even love, can overcome the ban against Return. And she had passed that Point of No Return, had stepped a millimetre, a millisecond, over it and now there was no going back. Not even the love that she felt, the absolute, soul-stripping love, not even that could take her back. Not the love of the Light. Not the love of Cadvan.

Her consciousness was fading now, she knew it, she felt it. A darkness, darker than anything she had seen or imagined in all her experiences of the Dark, and yet much softer, much warmer as well, was slowly overcoming her. She clung onto the last remnants of the world around her - the sounds of the battle, strangely muffled once more, the leaping in her stomach, the kiss, the kiss, the kiss…

They slowly broke away and stared at one another, and Maerad suddenly found the power within her to smile.

"I love you too," she said.

Cadvan, though his face burned with pain, smiled also, a sad, wholly devastated smile, but a smile.

"Maerad," he said. Nothing more. Just her name. He could not say goodbye.

The darkness was taking her. She could feel her body trembling, her breath slowly fading away, and, worst of all, her eyes flickering closed. It was not so bad, she thought foggily. She was dying, but she was warm, she was relaxed, she was loved. And he was there, still holding on to her, still saying her name.

"Maerad. No. Maerad…"

He wanted to hear her voice just one last time, he wanted to hear her say his name, he wanted to hear her breathing. But she was quiet, she was limp, and Cadvan knew that she was gone.

He closed his eyes and let the pain and the sorrow and the absolute, full yearning overwhelm him. And then, as he heard running footsteps behind, he leaned forward and rested his forehead on hers, and let the last warmth of her body fill him.

The battle stopped, the night blackened. And all that had been was lost.

_Past the point of no return,  
No backward glances,  
The games we've played till now are at an end.  
We've passed the point of no return…_

Dismal, yup? Don't worry, chapter 2 is better! Review anywhoo, and I give you cocktail! Cocktails for all! Sorry? What? Bribery? This isn't bribery, it's - hey, where did those handcuffs come from? Noooooooooooooooooo -


	2. Happy Every After no better title!

NB: No, I don't own 'em...ka-peesh?

All that had been was lost.

The Black Army had been defeated and Til Amon was safe… for now. But still, everything was lost. Maerad had gone, and that meant that the Singer of the Split Song - and the only hope of a true victory for the Light - had gone also. And because Maerad had gone, Cadvan felt like he had gone as well. Everything was just so…_lost_, and there was absolutely no way of retrieving it. He could beg, he could scream, he could sell his life, his very _soul_, but there was no going back, no returning to what had been, no having what he wanted so dearly that it hurt.

They had returned to Soron's house after the battle, had carried the lifeless Maerad into her room and had left her body there, on the bed as if she were asleep, while they retreated to the living room and tried to shape their thoughts around what had just happened.

Hem had not cried yet. He had, in fact, made no outburst since he had heard the news. He had simply remained quite quiet, quite motionless, absolutely disregarding all that happened around him; as did Irc, who sat just as silently on his shoulder. Saliman had treated him as he would a normally grieving brother, but they could all tell he was deeply worried. Soron had been the practical one of the group, telling those of importance what had happened and organising a meeting for the next day, and writing a letter to Silvia and Malgorn in Innail which Cadvan felt guiltily was a task for him, but one he knew he could not face at the moment. He himself felt just as numb as Hem, sitting on a chair in the silent living room with the token glass of laradhel clenched in his fist and his mind faraway, remembering what had just happened…

_I won't leave_, she had said, but she had. She had left him. How could she leave him?

He glanced over to the other side of the room where Hem was sitting silently and knew that Hem was thinking exactly the same question.

The door opened quietly and Soron peeked in - he had been off conversing with the guards still patrolling the walls.

"The Black Army has fled," he whispered into the silent room. "The leader of Til Amon's army thinks he got what he came for." He had not said it directly, but all three sitting there knew what he meant. There was no response to his comment, and he noticeably hesitated before clearing his throat and pressing on. "The Til Amon mortuary says that they are ready to receive her when…well. When we are ready also."

Saliman nodded almost imperceptibly at Soron's speech, but Cadvan and Hem had both stiffened from the word 'mortuary' and seemed to have forgotten that Soron was there. Soron made his excuses and left hastily, and Saliman went out into the corridor with him for a moment; they had an urgent, whispered conversation which Cadvan could just make out but didn't seem to want to care about.

_She was gone…_

"I just wish," Hem said suddenly, in a cracked voice which seemed hardly louder than the crackling of the fire in the grate, "I just wish I could have said goodbye."  
Cadvan glanced at him, feeling his stomach twist miserably. _At least_, he thought to himself without feeling very grateful, _I got that much…_

"She talked about you," he replied quietly. "She said you must be kept safe. She thought about you before anyone else."

It was so agonising speaking about Maerad in the third person that he could say no more and stared soundlessly at the floor instead. There was a small pause, then Hem put his face in his hands and wept silently, his body shaking but his mouth making no noise. The door opened and Saliman came back in, looking concerned and rushing to Hem's side. He swapped a glance with Cadvan - not accusatory but pitying, but Cadvan found he could bear no more of the tension. He stood up suddenly.

"I can't," he found himself saying simply, then swept out of the room.

At first he had no idea where he was going, but when he found himself outside of Maerad's room, he realised he was exactly where he wanted to be. At first he could only stand there, staring at the wood, while the last moments he had spent with her whirled around his head for another couple of times. Then, slowly, he put his hand to the door and pushed it quietly open.

The room was completely still, lit by a hundred golden candles that flickered soundlessly against the walls. The four poster bed sat in the centre of the room and on it, looking utterly peaceful, lay…

Cadvan blotted out the urge to run right back through the door again and instead took two steps into the room before he could change his mind. He had to be here, it was right for him to be here now…There was no one else around to disturb him, it was just her and him, as it had always been, as it should still be…

He took two more steps towards the bed, then kept going until he was right at the end of the bed and staring down at the motionless Maerad. Her eyes were closed and her face relaxed; she looked so peaceful, as if she were merely sleeping and dreaming a wonderful dream, that he half expected her to open her eyes and smile up at him. He realised with a fresh, terrible anguish, as if he had momentarily forgotten the fact, that he would never see her smile at him again. He would never talk with her again, teach her again, laugh with her again. He would never again see that sharp look in her eyes when she was memorising something, or the dying sunlight in her dark hair, or the quirking movement of her lips as she glanced up and met his eyes. He would never hear her voice ever again. And he wanted to, he wanted to so much…he felt such an awful yearning, such a violent need for her to be back with him that he thought he might rip apart at any moment.

_I don't want to leave_, she had said, but she had.

Quietly, he slipped around to the side of the bed and perched on the edge of it so that he could lean forward and stroke her cheek with the back of his fingers. Her skin was cold, even in the relative warmth of the room, and once again it brought him back to the reality that she truly was…dead.

He realised suddenly that here was the Chosen One, the Fated One, the one who was going to save them all from the Dark, lying dead before him. The Light's only hope, and she had been killed by a simple stab wound. And he had totally forgotten what the Chosen One had meant to those of the Light, because he had been too involved in what Maerad - just Maerad, nothing more - meant to him.

He closed his eyes and let the tears come.

"My kin," said a quiet voice which reminded him of moonbeams and lavender. He opened his eyes abruptly to see Ardina standing before him, glowing with her own silver light as always, her eyes turned sadly downwards to the motionless figure lying on the bed.

"What are you - " he tried to say, but for some reason his voice could only come out in a whisper. He felt as though he could not talk properly in this room.

"I have come to visit my kin, Cadvan of Lirigon," Ardina said in her swirling voice. "She has left this world."

Grief pierced Cadvan anew and he looked hastily down, away from Ardina's gaze. He didn't have a clue how or why Ardina was here at Maerad's bedside now, but it an odd way he was glad of her company. She reminded him more of Maerad than the grieving people he had left behind did - she was wild and free, as Maerad had always been in essence and had always wished to be in reality.

"It's my fault," he found himself blurting out - the truth needed to be said. "I should have protected her. I always did before, and now - at that one moment - when I - "  
"It is not your fault, Cadvan of Lirigon," Ardina replied in a firm voice. She stared down at Maerad for a while, then said in an odd tone, "Nor was it the fault of Fate."

Cadvan glanced up at her slowly, missing her meaning.

"Fate did not decree this," Ardina elaborated, seeing the sudden sharp look on his face through the clouding grief. "I can see it on her face - she was not Fated to die now."

"But she is dead." The words could scarcely be choked out, it was a reality as bitter as aniseed for him, but still - it was the reality. For a brief moment, Cadvan had felt his heart rate increase, as if Ardina had been trying to tell him something in her riddles, but then the reality had returned to him, making the few milliseconds of hope seem foolish.

But Ardina was still frowning in concentration. Slowly, she drew her hand over Maerad's face, glowing slightly with argent light.

"The mortal part of my kin is lifeless," she said in a voice that chimed like a million tiny silver bells. "But the immortal part…"

"What do you mean 'the immortal part'?" Cadvan put in instantly, feeling his heart start beating fast again. "She's Maerad, she's human - she might have been the One, but she could still be killed by a knife wound, just like anyone else - "

"You do not understand, Cadvan of Lirigon," Ardina murmured. "You have forgotten in your grief - she is also my kin. There is Elidhu within her. And the Elidhu are immortal."

There was a short silence. Cadvan stared at Ardina as if she had just dropped out of the stars, thinking vaguely that his heart beat was the loudest thing in the room. The nasty fingers of hope began to pinch at his insides. Could it be - could it be…?

"You mean," he said softly. "That Maerad is immortal?"

"No." Ardina stared down at him as coldly as the moon. "She is not an Elidhu - therefore she is not immortal. She will die - but when Fate decrees it. That is the gift of one with Elidhu blood - they will die only when it is their time to die."

"And…" Cadvan's voice gave out and he had to start again. "And - this is not M - Maerad's time?"

"It is not. I can see that Fate has written nothing on her face. There is no mark of Fate on her flesh. I suspected as much, so I came to make sure. I did not think that the One who has been so long prophesied was meant to die from a stab wound - it is not a true death for one such as her. I was right. She was not meant to die now. And because she is part Elidhu, she will not die now."

"But she's stopped breathing," Cadvan replied, his voice shaking. "She's cold - she's - "

Ardina glanced up at him and all the coldness that had been in her face earlier seemed to vanish.

"She does not know," she said in a softer voice, her long fingers slowly brushing across Maerad's forehead. "She realises as little as you did, Cadvan of Lirigon. She does not know that she can return. But she is still there."

Cadvan stared at Ardina in silence.

"Where is she?" he asked finally.

"Limbo," she answered. "Neither here nor there. Stuck in a colourless, numbing place, unable to move, unsure of even what she is. The longer she is there, the more she will lose herself, until there is nothing more to lose and she is truly…gone."

An urgency filled Cadvan which completely shot away the heart wrenching grief which had been plaguing him not five minutes beforehand.

"Tell me how to get to her," he said firmly. "Tell me where to go, what to do, how to do it. Tell me how to pull her back and I will do it, I will do it, I will do anything…"

He stared up at Ardina with a fierce need, but for a moment she made no movement, simply watched him with her star-filled eyes. Then, very quietly, she said,  
"You would truly do anything?"

"Anything," Cadvan answered, so sure that his words were running ahead of his mind. "Anything and everything. I would go as far as you ask, I would stretch myself beyond breaking point, I would reach up and bring you the highest, coldest star, I would give you my soul, _my very existence_ - if only she could come back to this world."

Ardina smiled, a smile so full that the walls momentarily shone silver with her merriment and the sleeping, dead Maerad's face seemed to drain of all colour.

"I have said it before," Ardina said eventually. "But it is true - you do remind me so much of the King Ardhor, Cadvan of Lirigon - "

She glanced down sadly at Maerad, her moonlit eyes suddenly misty.

"And perhaps my kin plays my part," she finished softly.

There was an odd silence; the air had thickened into water and Cadvan found it hard to breathe. He stared down at Maerad's still face but there was not a flicker of movement behind it - she looked utterly lifeless. How could Ardina be sure?  
Ardina stirred and smiled at Cadvan again, as if she had forgotten her previous words.

"Fortunately for you, Cadvan of Lirigon," she said. "You will not be asked to do any of those things you suggested - indeed you cannot do anything but wait and watch. Limbo is a place where no true mortal can reach, for you are either in the world of the living or the world of the dead. For you there is no between ground - and so I must go alone."

Their eyes met - Cadvan's haunted and more afraid than Ardina had ever seen them, Ardina's sharply accepting. Then, slowly, he nodded, and took Maerad's limp hand in both of his own. Ardina slowly reached forward and place either hands on Maerad's temples, her fingers splayed over her face. Then she steadily closed her eyes and silence reigned.

For a while nothing happened - Ardina stayed still and Maerad even more so. Cadvan waited, jittery with fear and hope and sadness in equal measures. And then, very faintly, both participants seemed to glow with a silver light. The light grew brighter and stronger, encompassing both so that Cadvan could no longer look at Maerad's face for fear of being blinded. He could hear a very faint ringing sound in his ears, like a finger running around the edge of a wine glass, and could smell lavender and blackberries washed in pure moonlight.

Then, abruptly, the light went out.

Neither person or Elidhu moved. Cadvan became suddenly aware that the only sound in the room now was his breathing - harsh and irregular, the breathing of a man in awe. He counted five of these breaths before Ardina opened her silvery eyes and began to glow a little again with her own silver aura. Cadvan glanced at her, then down at Maerad, but she was as motionless as ever.

It hadn't worked. Again, Cadvan felt despair crashing around him, reality slicing through his hopeful dreams and leaving them to flutter out of his mind like falling leaves. He felt as though he had lost her all over again - and it was worse this time because she really was lost, she really was gone. He knew for certain now that there was no going back, though it was only now that he had realised how much he had been hoping for some return; unconsciously convincing himself that a stab wound was no death for the One, praying for her return...remembering the fast beatings of his heart when Ardina had suggested it…there had been no qualms, just hope…

He glanced back up at Ardina, painful questions on his lips, but they were all halted when he realised…Ardina was smiling.

A triumphant, victorious smile! And she could only be smiling like that if - !  
He felt, at that exact moment, a faint pressure on his hands, and, glancing back down, realised that the pressure was coming from Maerad's hand in his - she was squeezing his hand!

He leaned forward slowly, until his face was an inch from hers, and, to his delight, felt the faint wisp of her breath on his cheek.

"Maerad," he whispered, and then, because he simply could not believe it was happening, said the word again. "_Maerad…_"

She let out a little sigh, the smallest of sighs, then gently her eyelashes began to flutter. Cadvan stared, perched on the side of his bed with her one hand clenched in both of his, his mind totally absorbed by her, noticing every change in her face, the faint blush of pink in her cheeks, the slight tremble of her lips, and then…and then…  
The eyelashes fluttered one more time, then her eyelids pulled themselves back and Cadvan found himself looking in her beautiful - if a little dazed - sea blue eyes.

For a moment, all they did was stare at one another as hungrily as before, drinking each other in with their eyes, watching every changing detail. Then, just as Cadvan had longed for, just as Cadvan had yearned for ever since she had left him, Maerad's mouth quirked up in that special gentle smile she seemed to have only for him.

"Cadvan," she whispered, and, to Cadvan, her voice was sweeter than the singing of a thousand voices or the trilling of a billion flutes.

It was then, and only then, that he fully realised…

She had never left him for a moment.

Review!! Or die!! Your choice smiles innocently :)


End file.
